


solar flare

by kinkywrists



Category: Chinese Actor RPF, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, Drabble, I have no idea how to tag this it's wordy pretentious and weird, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:33:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26381203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkywrists/pseuds/kinkywrists
Summary: Loving Wang Yibo is like loving the moon.
Relationships: Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan
Comments: 30
Kudos: 98





	solar flare

**Author's Note:**

> just a weird little something something amidst all the porn, get out some of my weird feelings for these boys. very different to my usual stuff haha, also unbetaed because im shy about this, so sorry for all the commas, i love them.

Loving Wang Yibo is like loving the moon.

He exists as a source of light in a darkened room, drawing attention for the lack of anything that could outshine him. Wang Yibo is a step beyond anyone’s reach, slipping from Xiao Zhan’s grasp whenever he feels like he is getting too close, and Xiao Zhan has been reaching. He has spent years reaching, but Wang Yibo does not want to be reached, Wang Yibo is not someone who can be reached. Xiao Zhan knew this from the first time that they met.

Wang Yibo may look cold, but what people don’t know is that he runs hot, he burns at one-hundred-and-twenty-two degrees. He has burned his way into Xiao Zhan’s life, scorched him just from those few months of close proximity, nights of sweat and heat and salt and Xiao Zhan is singed. The edges of his heart are carbonised, brittle, made weak by the force of the love that Xiao Zhan has smouldering there. The same love that Wang Yibo had stoked, made larger by the way he blew hot on the rim of Xiao Zhan’s ear, the skin of his neck, whispers and words and promises that coiled up inside of him until Xiao Zhan could burst with it. Even now without him, negative two-hundred-and-thirty-three degrees alone in the third hotel bed of the week, Xiao Zhan can still feel the burn.

There’s something comforting in knowing that the embers are still there, half a year later. Half a year from the point of cease communications – an agreement that was less that and more demand – Xiao Zhan can still hold something warm.

Wang Yibo is like the moon, in that on the darkest of nights Xiao Zhan can still seek him out. The comfort in knowing he is out there somewhere, existing, is enough to keep Xiao Zhan turning in his orbit. Even if he cannot touch him, Xiao Zhan can’t escape the presence of him, doesn’t try to. From a pair of shoes at the bottom of his closet, the same colour as his own but one size too big, to at the airport, airbrushed skin and star-shine smile the length of a wall, Wang Yibo is ninety-three-million miles from him, yet feels like he is right there. He is never really gone, he just needs to know where to look.

People, friends, have said ‘he looks at you like a flower does the sun, that Wang Yibo’ and Xiao Zhan had _ached_ , because all the more reason for them to stay apart. The sun and the moon only pass each other at times of eclipse, and far be it from Xiao Zhan’s desires to eclipse Wang Yibo. Be careful with him, Xiao Zhan had told himself, his lips numb and hands trembling, Wang Yibo pressed up in his orbit from dawn to dusk. Be careful with him because he _wants_ , and Xiao Zhan has only so much he can give, needs to stay cautious, be careful. 

Xiao Zhan hadn’t been careful, sunspots in his eyes as he pressed kisses to the underside of Wang Yibo’s jaw and felt the stars settle into place around them when he promised that this would be the last time. There’s a beauty in watching something lose its light, penumbra passing across the memory as Wang Yibo had left in silence, the emptiness of the night sky his answer. 

Total solar eclipses are rare, unlikely to reoccur in the same place for the next four-hundred years. Xiao Zhan thinks about this, thinks about the turn of Wang Yibo’s head, the glint in his eyes, the red of his ears. He thinks about the whispered ‘put it on me’, how his fingers had slipped against the clasp of the necklace. He thinks about nights spent together, nights that weren’t made for Xiao Zhan, and the mornings that followed, not made for Wang Yibo. He thinks, achingly, about the way in which there are Xiao Zhan’s footprints in the dust of Wang Yibo’s memories without an atmosphere to wear them away; preserved for the rest of time. 

Xiao Zhan thinks about this, and four-hundred years feels like too long to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> moon facts from my varying research over the years, and are probably out of date now, so dont trust them. you can find me in my usual places!


End file.
